My angel sister, though thy lovely form
Perished in youth's gay morning, yet is mine
This precious ringlet!--still the soft hairs shine,
Still glow the nut-brown tints, all bright and warm
With sunny gleam!--Alas! each kindred charm
Vanished long since; deep in the silent shrine
Withered to shapeless dust!--and of their grace
Memory alone retains the faithful trace.--
Dear lock! had thy sweet owner lived, ere now
Time on her brow had faded thee!--My care
Screened from the sun and dew thy golden glow;
And thus her early beauty dost thou wear,
Thou all of that fair frame my love could save
From the resistless ravage of the grave!